Runaway
by potter-locked
Summary: Set in the summer after 4th year. Fifteen-year-old Harry has had enough of the Dursleys abuse and runs away to find Sirius at Grimmauld Place. Godfather/godson bonding story.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N Hi! Thanks for reading my first fic- had a story idea and decided to try it out... we'll see how it goes. Let me know your opinions- good or bad- so I know how I'm doing:) This will probably only be a few chapters long, depending on the response. Anyways, thank you and enjoy!_**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter_**

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**RUNAWAY**

**Chapter One: Leaving**

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_A flash of green light. _

_The dull thump of Cedric's body hitting the ground._

_His classmate's eyes, wide and blank, staring up at him._

_His own pained cry: "Cedric! NO!"_

_Another yelled curse: "CRUCIO!"_

_Pain, pain, everything pain._

_His tortured screams._

_One last curse: Avada-!_

Harry Potter bolted upright in his bed at Number 4 Privet Drive, sweating and shaking. He drew his wand from his waistband and looked around frantically for a few seconds before finally realizing where he was. He let out a huge sigh of relief.

_'Great' _Harry thought miserably as he felt around on his nightstand for his glasses, shoving them on his face and swinging his legs over the side of his bed onto the ground._ 'Another bloody nightmare. Will I ever get a decent night's sleep?'_

The past month had been one of the hardest of Harry's life. Haunted by the events of the Triwizard Tournament in June, his life had taken a drastic turn for the worse. He was scared to sleep because of his horrific nightmares. This, combined with the crushing guilt he felt for leading Cedric to his death, caused him to not be able to sleep for days on end. He had lost his already meager appetite; he only ate enough to keep himself alive. He was weak and tired. His face was gaunt, his eyes dull and haunted. His cast-off clothes hung off him even more than they used to. The only time he went outside was when his Aunt had guests or gave him chores and forced him out for hours on end. On top of that, his uncle's behavior towards him had taken a violent turn; if Harry put one toe out of line he was guaranteed to have a few nasty bruises on his pale skin the next day. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle- he'd endurds worse pain. He was more worried about the bruises being visible when he went back to Hogwarts. Harry didn't like to be noticed or worried about, which was a trait Mrs. Weasley never failed to scold him for.

As if all this wasn't enough, Dumbledore had forbidden any owls to or from Harry's friends, Sirius or anyone else as a safety precaution. All forms of communication were cut off, leaving him more lonely than ever before. Harry could feel himself slowly sinking into depression, but had no idea what to do or how to get help. He supposed he's just have to deal with it by himself, as usual.

Harry really missed talking to his friends, but they weren't really what he needed at the moment. Though he would never admit it, what Harry needed was an adult to help him; to take care of him and talk to him about his issues, but not coddle him like Mrs. Weasley would. He needed someone like Sirius.

The last time Harry had had any contact with Sirius was the night of the fatal events of the Triwizard Tournament, in the infirmary. He had said goodbye with a hug and ruffle of the hair, but had also discreetly slipped a hastily written note into Harry's hand. Later that night, Harry opened the note in private. It read:

_Harry-_

_I'm sorry I have to leave, but it's necessary. Dumbledore didn't want me to tell you this, but I am anyways, just in case you need me. On the back of this note there is an address written- this is my house. If there's an emergency, send an owl there and I should get it._

_I love you, kiddo. Stay strong, and I'll see you again soon._

_-Sirius_

_P.S- It is absolutely crucial that you burn this letter after memorizing the address. Don't leave it lying around, and don't tell anyone else about it._

Harry had turned the note over, where it read:

_Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London, England._

It was comforting to know where Sirius was, but slightly useless seeing as he didn't have Hedwig- she was at Ron's place for the summer.

Suddenly, his door slammed open, interrupting Harry's musings and revealing his purple-faced, whale sized uncle.

Vernon stomped towards him, raising a fist and slamming Harry right in the face. _Ow._

"YOU IGNORANT, USELESS TWIT! WHAT'RE YOU PLAYING AT, SCREAMING LIKE THAT, WAKING MY FAMILY UP AT 2 IN THE BLOODY MORNING! I OUGHT TO FINISH YOU OFF RIGHT NOW, YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARD!"

Harry had had enough, he was at the end of his string. He wasn't going to take this lying down anymore. He stood up, ready to defend himself.

"Well I'm sorry, _Uncle Vernon_, but it's really not my fault that I have nightmares, is it you moron?"

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME, YOU LITTLE BRAT?!" his Uncle screamed. Another fist collided with Harry's jaw, sending him flying into the opposite wall. His head hit it with a sickening crack and he fell onto his hands and knees, dazed. A sharp kick in the ribs followed by another crack brought him back to reality. But Harry had had enough. He couldn't continue with this life. He forced himself to stand up and faced his Uncle.

"All my life you have treated me like dirt. Mud on the bottom of your shoes, a nuisance, a waste of your space. I used to think that it was my fault; that I wasn't good enough for some reason. But now I know differently. You're a sick, twisted, cowardly bastard, and I'm tired of your shit."

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Vernon roared, pointing to the door.

"I was on my way out anyways." Harry stated coolly. The adrenaline caused him to forget his pain momentarily as Harry grabbed his pillowcase from under the floorboard and stuff it into his trunk that he hadn't bothered to unpack. He grabbed Hedwig's empty cage and checked for his wand in his waistband, then stormed out of the room past his uncle who was watching him with beady eyes. He stomped down the stairs, his uncle behind him. When he got to the bottom his aunt and cousin waiting, both glaring at him. They had obviously heard everything. With his hand on the door knob, the fifteen year old turned around to face his sorry excuse for a family.

He had so much he wanted to say to them, but no words could truly express the anger he felt towards the entire family. He looked at each of them right in the eyes, finally resting his glare on his uncle. He opened his mouth and settled on two quiet, simple words:

"Fuck you."

Then he turned on his heel, flung the door open and stomped out of the house, leaving Number 4, Privet Drive behind for good.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Hi again! This is a short chapter, but I plan on putting another one up later today. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

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**Chapter Two: Shelter**

Now that he was out of the house and a few blocks away, Harry realized what a stupid decision he had made. Not only was it pouring rain, pitch black and two in the morning, but he had no idea what to do or where to go. He had no owl, no money, not even a coat to keep him dry. His broom, he realized grimly, was locked in the cupboard under the stairs. Voldemort had just returned and was out to kill him (he had forgotten this minor detail in his anger). He'd be best to stay out of public places for safety, which ruled out sneaking onto any sort of bus or train. He couldn't use magic or he would be tracked and expelled. All he had was his invisibility cloak and his own two feet, which were cold and completely soaked. Shit.

Another issue was the injuries he got from his uncle- he was pretty sure he had a minor concussion and a cracked rib or two, along with a sprained ankle, black eye and countless other bumps and bruises. Now that his adrenaline was wearing off, he was feeling the pain more and more. And it hurt. A lot. But, since he couldn't use magic with the trace, there wasn't really anything for Harry to do other than deal with it. As usual.

He had three options: One, find his way to the Burrow and hope they won't mind keeping him until school started. Two, find his way to Grimmauld Place and hope Sirius will let him bunk at his place for a bit. Three, live on the streets until someone notices he's gone and comes to get him. He didn't really fancy the latter, and to be honest, he didn't know the exact location of the Burrow. At least he had an address for Grimmauld Place, and he really wanted to see Sirius. Besides, if he showed up on Molly Weasley's doorstep like this he was bound to be fussed over and confined to bed for at least two weeks. He was pretty sure Sirius wouldn't coddle him, or ask too many question that he wasn't ready to answer. Plus, he didn't exactly want Ron and the twins to see him in this state. No, Sirius' place was definitely his best option. He just hoped his Godfather wouldn't mind too much.

One more problem- how would he get from London to Surrey? He had a vague idea of the direction he should be heading, but not much else to go on. Harry decided that his best bet for now would be to find shelter from the rain until morning, when he could go into town and ask for a map, or some directions at least.

With a clear plan in mind, Harry limped off in search of somewhere dry. After a few minutes, he found an alley behind a supermarket right on the edge of town. He settled down against a dirty wall sheltered by an awning, gasping in pain as his ribs seared. He took his invisibility cloak from his trunk, draping it over himself as a disguise and a blanket. As Harry shifted to find a spot that didn't aggravate his bruised body so much, he became quite aware that he hadn't slept for more than an hour in the last five days or so. His last conscious thought before drifting off into a restless, painful sleep was: "Wouldn't they love to see 'The Boy Who Lived' now?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm back, again! Second chapter today, wow. Sirius is in this chapter, finally! Let me know what you think! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

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**Chapter Three: Arriving**

When Harry woke a few hours later, the first thing he registered was pain. His abdomen, head, shoulder, ankle, face... everywhere. Being careful to stay under his cloak, Harry painfully lifted himself to his feet, using the dumpster beside him for support. He was hurting so much that he could barely stand straight. His head felt funny- the concussion was the cause, he supposed. But Harry had no time to linger- he had to find his way to London, as fast as possible.

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle overnight, and Harry had dried off a bit (a very small bit, mind you). He remembered his plan from yesterday- to go into a store and get directions, then set off to Grimmauld place. With this in mind, Harry slipped off his invisibility cloak, shoved it into his trunk and dragged himself onto the street, his head down. Luckily it was still very early so everyone was in bed, save a few early-morning commuters and cyclists. Harry noticed that the supermarket was already open, and slipped in.

He limped to the counter, where a middle-aged woman was standing organizing some receipts. She looked up once he reached the counter and stepped back, giving a large gasp.

_'Shit'_ Harry thought, berating himself for his stupidity. He hadn't even thought about what he would look like to other people; he was dirty, bruised and exhausted. Not to mention his smell.

"Oh my goodness! Dear, are you alright?" she asked, looking extremely shocked. "What happened to you?"

"It's quite a long story... but I'm alright, really..." Harry replied awkwardly, looking away. "Listen, I was wondering if I could get some directions to London, or maybe a map, or something... d'you think you could help me out? Please?" Harry was trying to behave as normal and politely as possible, but his pain was so great it was now causing his breath to come in raggedy gasps.

"Of course, dear. I have a map in my bag; keep it, if you like." She reached behind the counter and handed Harry the map.

"Thank you." he gasped out, now leaning on the counter for support.

"You don't look like you're much up to travelling though, love. My shift finishes at noon- if you wait, I could give you a ride to London. I'm heading there anyways, to visit my daughter."

Harry really wished that he could say yes- it would save him from what he was sure would be a long, cold, painful journey. But what if a death-eater followed them? He was a wanted man amongst Voldemort's clan. He wasn't about to endanger an innocent muggle- he'd have to refuse her help.

"Thank you for the offer, but I think I'll be alright on my own."

"Alright, dear. If you insist. But at least let me give you something for the pain. Here, we sell Advil." She grabbed a new bottle from the shelf, opening it and shaking a few pills out. She handed them to Harry with a bottle of water. "Two should do it. And don't worry about the price- I'll cover it"

"Thank you so much." Harry said sincerely, taking the pills from her and swallowing them. He knew they wouldn't work to their full potential since he was a wizard, but hopefully they would help a bit. And to be honest, he needed all the help he could get.

"Well, I'd better be off." Harry said to the woman. "Thank you so much- you don't know how much you've helped me."

"No worries, dear. I only wish you'd let me help more. Good luck to you- I hope you find your way."

"Me too." Harry replied honestly. He limped back towards the door, where he turned around and smiled, though he was sure it turned out as more of a grimace. "Thanks again." he said, waving at the woman, who smiled and waved back with a look of pity on her face. He hated pity. Harry exiting the store, trudging back onto the wet street.

Harry slipped back into the alley, put on his cloak and opened the map. He marked out his route, noticing that it was a long one. He was not looking forward to this journey.

"Better to start sooner rather than later, I suppose." Harry muttered to himself as he began to walk, holding the map and dragging his trunk behind him.

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After about four hours of walking, Harry found himself on a country road in the middle of nowhere. It had started to pour again sometime in the last half hour. The wind was nearly knocking him over. Harry was once again sopping wet and completely miserable. He was hungry and exhausted, but he still trooped on, putting one foot in front of the other. He needed to get to Sirius- only then would he be safe to rest. He had no idea how long it would take him to get there, but he was willing to go the distance. The Advil had kicked in after about twenty minutes of walking. It didn't help much, but it took the edge off the pain, making it almost bearable.

Lost in his own depressing thoughts, Harry failed to notice a branch lying on the side of the road, presumably knocked down by the strong wind. He tripped over it, falling hard on the road and smacking his head on the pavement. He landed in a graceless heap.

Everything was spinning out of control- Harry couldn't think. Everything was fuzzy. Slowly, he felt unconsciousness creeping in on him. But he wouldn't let it take him over- if he fainted now, who knows what would happen? Who would find him, what they would do to him? With this in mind, Harry painfully dragged himself off the ground and trudged on, not really aware of much except the pain. He continued for hours, a mantra repeated on his lips over and over again:

_ Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Number 12, Grimmauld place._

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After the fall, everything was a bit of a blur. Harry was vaguely aware that he should be tired, hungry, cold and probably unconscious, but that was all secondary to his determination to get to Grimmauld Place.

Countless hours later, Harry suddenly snapped back into consciousness. He nearly collapsed in shock as all the things he had been feeling subconsciously rushed onto him all at once; the pain, the exhaustion, the hunger. It was quite obvious that the Advil had worn off since the last time he was physically aware; the pain was back, a million times worse than before. But Harry was still determined. He kept on repeating his mantra: _Number_ _12, Grimmauld Place. Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Number 12, Grimmauld place. _It was dark, windy, and still pouring rain, he noticed. Harry looked up to check his surroundings, and almost fell over in shock. He was standing in front of two narrow houses, but that wasn't all. They were moving, slowly but surely shifting away from each other right before his eyes. Two entire houses. And what was appearing between them? Another house, almost exactly the same._ 'I've finally lost it.' _Harry thought to himself._ 'I've gone mad. Completely bonkers.'_ Quite suddenly, the houses stopped moving. Curious, and not thinking quite straight, Harry dragged himself towards the door of the middle house and up the steps. He got to the top, leaning heavily on the banister and doubled over in pain. He raised his eyes and looked at the house number. He nearly yelped with joy when he read the four words on the plaque beside the door: _Number 12, Grimmauld Place. _He had made it.

Harry practically flung himself forwards onto the door. He reached for the knocker and pulled it ._ One knock_. _Wait._ No answer. _Two knocks_._ Wait._ No answer. He reached up for a third knock, with the last of his strength. Right before he released the knocker, the door swung open. Harry stumbled forward over the threshold, and would have crumpled onto the floor if a pair of arms hadn't caught him. Strong, reliable arms, he noticed. He used the person's shoulders to lift himself up, leaning heavily on the person's shoulders. Harry looked up at the person's face for the first time. He had never been so happy to see anyone in his life. It was the face of Sirius, his Godfather, his savior. Harry vaguely registered that Sirius looked shocked, scared and worried.

"Harry?" Sirius breathed out, sounding very confused.

Harry gave his Godfather a delirious grin, then gave a reply, his voice cracking.

_"_Number 12, Grimmauld Place, right? Mind if I stay a while?"

Harry let out a half-laughing, half-sobbing sound, before falling forward into the strong embrace of his Godfather. He wrapped his thin arms and his waist and rested his head against Sirius' chest, where he began to sob in earnest. He gave great, heaving sobs, full of emotion and despair. They wracked his entire weak frame, causing him to cry out from the pain they caused in his ribs. Harry couldn't help it- all of his pain, fear and exhaustion from the last two days came crashing down on him, and he couldn't take it anymore. Harry felt his Sirius' strong arms holding him, one hand pressing his head into his chest and the other resting on his back, supporting him as he finally broke down.

Harry didn't know how long they stayed like that. He sobbed and sobbed, and kept on sobbing even when he had no tears left. Eventually Harry exhausted himself and felt sleep taking him over, but he didn't resist. He was safe in Sirius' comforting arms, and nothing seemed better than a good, long rest at the moment. He thought one last thing before drifting into blissful unconsciousness: '_Number 12, Grimmauld Place. I made it.'_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi! Sorry for the wait,super busy with school and stuff. But here you go! **

**Note for this chapter: The order isn't staying at Grimmauld Place in this story, it's just Sirius and now Harry. Also, this chapter is from Sirius' point of view. **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

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**Chapter 4**

**Sirius' POV**

To be completely honest, Sirius black didn't know what the hell was going on.

One minute he was having a rather large panic attack over a letter he received from Dumbledore stating that Harry was found missing from the Dursley's and a dementor was found in Little Whinging all on the same day. Next thing he knew, he was opening his front door to find his bruised and battered Godson half-dead on his doorstep.

To say that Sirius was surprised when Harry had shown up on his doorstep, flung himself into his arms and broke down would be an understatement. Sirius hadn't really known what to do or say, so he just kept on holding his Godson as he sobbed, trying to be as comforting as he could given that he didn't even know why Harry was in this state. Harry's cries were so full of pain and emotion that it physically hurt to listen to them- Sirius had never heard anyone sound so agonizingly miserable yet so utterly relieved at the same time. No fifteen-year-old should be capable of making these sounds. Frankly, Sirius was scared- he had no idea what the hell had happened to the poor boy, or how Harry could have gotten himself beaten up this badly. At least he was alive and still had a soul- for a few minutes before he had arrived, Sirius had been fearing the worst. Eventually Harry had either fallen asleep or passed out in his arms- probably the latter, judging by his condition. After he felt Harry go limp, Sirius had brought him up to his room and laid him on his bed, hoping to treat some of his injuries. This was where he found himself now.

Sirius was actually pretty good at healing- he had taken a class in his seventh year at Hogwarts. Mostly because a girl he had liked was also taking it, but no matter. He knew most of the basics- cuts, scrapes, bruises and broken bones. Now, with his badly injured Godson laying in front of him, it was time to put his skills to the test.

He decided to start by cleaning Harry up so he could actually see his injuries, which were currently hidden under a layer of dirt and dried blood. Sirius summoned a bowl of water and a clean cloth and began to carefully wipe down Harry's face, neck and arms, trying not to aggravate his cuts too much. The more he cleaned Harry up, the more evident his cuts and bruises became. He had a black eye and bruised jaw, amongst many other bruises. He also looked like he had taken quite a nasty fall- his hands were torn up and the back of his head was scraped badly.

Sirius carefully peeled off Harry's wet shirt and gasped loudly at what he saw underneath. He had known that Harry was skinny, but this was beyond that. The boy was fifteen- James certainly hadn't been this skinny at his age! But then again, Harry wasn't James. His ribs were sticking out much too far to be healthy and he had no meat on his bones- Sirius would have to fix that. There was also a shocking large and swollen area on his rib cage, stark in contrast to his pale skin- Sirius suspected a broken rib or two.

Twenty minutes later, Harry was dressed in a clean pair of pajamas and mostly healed. Sirius had healed and bandaged his broken bones to the best of his ability, but suspected they would still hurt for a few days. He had healed most of his cuts and bruises with some salve and a few spells. Sirius was pretty sure that Harry had some kind of concussion, but he would have to wait until he was awake to check for sure. Harry looked considerably better than he had before, but still appeared ill. He was far too pale and thin, and had large purple bags under his eyes. Sirius wondered when the last time Harry had slept properly was.

Sirius supposed he should send a letter to Dumbledore to tell him that he had Harry and he was safe. He summoned a quill and some parchment and began to write.

_Dumbledore-_

_Harry turned up on my doorstep tonight and is now safe with me. I don't know what happened to him yet, but I'll find out when he wakes up. Please inform everyone that he is alright and not to worry._

_Regards,_

_Sirius Black_

Sirius sealed his short letter and walked over to the window of the room where his owl was perched. He tied the letter to her leg and sent her on her way to find Dumbledore. He then walked back over to the bed and pulled up an arm chair, sitting down beside his sleeping Godson. He noted how young the boy looked when he was sleeping and you couldn't see his eyes; eyes that had seen too much in too few years, eyes too mature for their age.

Sirius couldn't say that he was looking forward to finding out exactly what had happened when Harry woke up- it looked as though it would be a grim tale. He was worried about his Godson; back in June, Harry had experienced things that no fifteen-year-old ever should. It was bound to have some effects on him- nightmares at the very least. But Harry had been sent right back to Surrey to live with his relatives, not allowed any contact with anyone. He had no access to any source of comfort, help or even information. Sirius had protested this, insisting that Harry stay with him for the summer. But Dumbledore had sat him down and explained the blood wards, so Sirius had had to consent to allow Harry to stay at his relative's house again this summer. He was sourly regretting this decision now.

Sirius didn't really know what the Dursleys were like as relatives, but he got the feeling they weren't too brilliant from things that Harry had let slip in conversation. Also, when Sirius had off ered Harry a new home with him back in his third year, Harry had jumped on the opportunity, even if he had barely known Sirius for half an hour. That was odd, in Sirius' opinion. He would have to investigate later.

Then there was the matter of the dementor: what was it doing in Little Whinging, around the corner from where Harry was supposed to be staying? It was highly unlikely that it was a coincidence. What if Harry had been there? What would have happened to him? Sirius shuddered; he didn't even want to think about it.

Sirius concluded to get the full story from Harry when he woke up, but only if he felt up to it. Harry had obviously had a pretty rough few days, and Sirius didn't want to pressure him into doing anything he didn't want to. For now he would let Harry sleep and hope for some answers in the morning. Sirius settled back in his armchair and dozed off into a restless sleep.

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**A/N: Also, tomorrow's my birthday so I probably won't be writing. Expect another chapter by Saturday, though! Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hi guys! I'm really sorry this is a day late, I was super busy with Christmas stuff:) To apologize, I made this chapter super long! Hope you like it, and please review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

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**Chapter 5**

Harry could fell consciousness slowly creeping up on him, but tried to ignore it- he was much too comfortable in this warm, soft bed...

Suddenly a loud, drawn out snore came from somewhere on Harry's left. He jumped up, overshooting in his drowsiness and falling onto the ground with an ungraceful thump, now completely awake. He heard a yelp, and saw a blurry figure jump up right in front of him. Harry leapt off the ground, reaching for his wand in his waistband only to realize that it wasn't there. "Fuck" he cursed under his breath, looking around frantically. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his wrist. He yanked his arm back and began to panic.

"Get the fuck off me! Who are you?" he yelled. "Where am I? What do you want?"

Harry started grappling at thin air, looking for a table or anything that might hold his glasses or wand. In his panicked fit, Harry failed to notice that the blurry figure was speaking.

"Harry. _Harry._ HARRY!"

Finally hearing the voice, Harry stopped moving.

"Harry?" it questioned softly.

It was then that Harry realized that he recognized this voice. He faced the figure and squinted, trying to make out some features: tall, short dark hair, pale skin...

"_Sirius?_" He said disbelievingly, not quite sure if it was actually him. He heard a sigh of relief from the person's direction.

"Yeah, you nutter! Were you trying to finish me off? Here, I have your glasses in my pocket. Jesus Christ, I didn't know you were this blind without them..."

Harry saw Sirius move, and the next second he felt his glasses being pressed into his hand. He slipped them onto his face and let out a relieved sigh as everything came back into focus, including the slightly worried, slightly amused face of his Godfather. Harry started grinning like an idiot- he was so happy to see his Godfather after so long. Sirius was dressed in muggle jeans and a black t-shirt with some sort of logo on it. His hair was cut short and his face was clean shaven. He looked much fuller and healthier than the last time Harry had seen him, which was very good news.

"-is that alright with you? Harry? Why are you smiling? What's so funny?" Sirius said, sounding very confused.

"Nothing, Sirius. Just happy to see you again, is all. Sorry, what were you just saying?" Harry replied. He must have zoned out for a few minutes, because he had no idea what his Godfather had just said to him. Sirius gave him a funny look and started again.

"I just was asking if it was alright if I checked you over for a concussion. Your head was pretty banged up last night."

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine. Go ahead. Thanks." Harry replied hastily. Sirius' remark had caused him to remember why he was here in the first place; the fight with his Uncle, running away, getting to Grimmauld place and losing it in front of Sirius. He most probably had some explaining to do, and was definitely not looking forward to it.

"Maybe have a seat, I'll just run a quick spell over you. Might make you feel a little dizzy, so be careful."

"Right." Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, closed his eyes and braced himself for the spell. Sirius stood in front of Harry, pointing his wand at his forehead and muttering an incantation. Harry felt his head go fuzzy for a moment, then return to normal. When he opened his eyes, the tip of Sirius' wand was glowing bright red.

"Yup." Sirius confirmed. "Definitely a concussion... and a pretty bad one at that."

He raised his wand and summoned several bottles. He uncorked them and handed them to Harry one at a time.

"One for the concussion, one for nutrition, another for the pain. Drink up, kid."

Harry gave a small, crooked smile at the nickname then proceeded to down the potions in one gulp each. He grimaced at the tastes, but was thankful that the fuzzy feeling in his head, slight pain in his ribs and gnawing hunger in his stomach had all disappeared instantly. Feeling much better but still nervous for the discussion that was to come, Harry set the last bottle down on the bedside table and shuffled himself back on the bed a little so the back of his knees were touch it.

"Thanks." he said quietly, hunching over and looking at his feet hanging an inch off the ground. He knew what was coming now- it was inevitable that Sirius would have questions, ones Harry would rather not answer. Hopefully his Godfather would try to keep it as brief as possible.

Harry felt the bed sink beside him as his Sirius sat down a few inches away. Harry noticed that his Godfather was watching him from the corner of his eye, but continued to look at his feet, waiting for him to make the first move.

"Harry." Sirius finally spoke in a soft voice.

"Yeah?" Harry replied, continuing to look at his feet. His voice cracked a bit in his nervousness.

"Harry, come on. Look at me." Sirius nearly pleaded.

Harry slowly raised his head and made eye contact with his Godfather.

"You look like shit, kid." Sirius said, smiling a little.

Harry rolled his eyes, letting out a soft chuckle. It lightened the mood a bit, making him feel a little less nervous for what was coming. Only his Godfather could make him laugh at a time like this. Sirius opened his mouth to speak again.

"Listen, Harry, I really need to know what happened to you and why you're here. Believe me, I'm thrilled to see you, but last night you showed up on my doorstep half-dead and it scared me shitless. I just need to know that you're safe."

"I know. And I'm sorry for scaring you." Sirius nodded his forgiveness.

"Why don't you start from the beginning?"

"Alright, here it goes. Two nights ago I ran away from the Dursley's house. They were pissing me off so I just left. All I had with me was my trunk, my invisibility cloak and my wand- I didn't have my broom, or even any muggle money. I decided to come here- I remembered your address from when you gave me that letter in June, and I figured you wouldn't mind letting me stay a while. It was raining so I spent that night in an alley near town, then the next morning I got a map from a woman in a supermarket. Once I had the map, I set off on foot for London and didn't stop walking until I got here. That's all that happened- no big deal, really. Oh, by the way, did you know that your house moves?"

Harry had made his terrible journey sound as simple and painless as possible, hoping to avoid awkward questions. He finished his speech by trying to change the subject. It was a good try.

"Yeah, I know. Fidelius charm." Sirius said absently, waving his hand. "Harry, if that's the whole story, then how did you get so beat up?"

"I just fell on the way.' Harry said, avoiding eye contact and hoping that Sirius would buy it. It wasn't a lie, he reminded himself, only a half truth. Harry looked up to see Sirius with one eyebrow raised, giving him a disbelieving look. '_Damn it'_, Harry thought. Why did Sirius have to be so perceptive?

"That would explain the concussion and a few other injuries, but only if it was a really hard fall. Last time I checked, you don't get a black eye and finger-shaped bruises on your arm from simply falling on concrete. How about the truth, yeah? How did you get those injuries?"

"I got in a fight."

"With who?"

"It's really not a big deal, Sirius. Don't worry, I'm fine. I can handle it."

"No, Harry, I will worry, because that's my job and I know that something's up. If you got into a fist fight with a neighborhood kid, you would just tell me now- you know I wouldn't be mad. There's something big you're trying to hide from me. We'll try one more time, yeah? How did you get those injuries?"

Harry looked at his feet again, defeated- he knew there was no getting out of this one now. Sirius always knew when he was lying. He would have to tell him the truth about his uncle. Over the years, Harry had gotten used to the treatment and convinced himself that Vernon's behavior really wasn't that big of a deal- it was just his way of life. But it would be a huge deal to Sirius, he knew it. That was just the way Sirius was, love it or hate it. Harry looked into Sirius' eyes. In there he saw a mixture of concern and determination, and in that moment he knew that Sirius wouldn't stop until he got the truth out of him. Damn him for caring so much.

"Sirius, before I tell you anything you have to promise me something. Promise me you won't tell anyone else what I'm about to tell you. Also, please try not to overreact. Okay?"

Sirius nodded in agreement and waited for Harry to speak. _'Best to get it over with' _Harry thought as looked at Sirius, gathered all his courage and began to speak.

"Okay. Well, it's true that some of my injuries came from falling. But the others... well, the night I ran away I kind of talked back to my Uncle, and he got pretty pissed off. He might've hurt me a little. That's why I ran off." Sirius' face took on an expression of of fury as he absorbed what his Godson had just said, so Harry hurried on. "But it's fine, Sirius. Really. Don't worry about me, I'm fine now."

He saw Sirius take a deep, calming breath and run a hand through his hair, trying to control his temper. When he was a little calmer, he spoke again.

"Harry, this is anything but_ fine. _This is abuse, plain and simple. What the hell did you say to get him so pissed off that he hit you?"

"I accidentally woke him up during the night. To be honest, it doesn't take all that much to get him in that state."

_'Shit'_ Harry cursed under his breath, covering his face with his hand in frustration; he had basically just given away to Sirius that this was a common occurrence at the Dursley house.

"This has happened before, then?"

Harry looked away at the opposite wall, his breath quickening as he seriously began to panic.

"Once or twice..."

"Harry, enough with the lying, honestly! You're pants at it!" Sirius was starting to sound agitated, and even Harry was getting tired of playing games. It was time to just let it out. He jumped off the bed and started pacing about in front of Sirius like a maniac, making aggressive gestures as he started to speak in a raised voice.

"Fine, I'll tell you, if you really want to know that badly! My uncle has hit me in anger ever since I can remember. It's just the way it is over there- I get blamed for something, I pay for it with my own blood. But this summer, for some reason, it got worse. He beats me up for the tiniest things; not cooking dinner properly, not finishing all my chores, sleeping in for five minutes too long. Sometimes he even does it for no reason other than me being alive. The night I ran away I had a nightmare and started screaming in my sleep. He burst into my room and he was so angry and he started yelling at me for waking him up. I was so tired of his shit; I mean, it's not my fault I have nightmares, is it! So I yelled back. He beat me up and threw me around for a while. That's how I got most of the injuries; the ribs, black eye, finger marks, broken wrist. Eventually I got so pissed off I just grabbed my trunk and left that fucking hell-hole. I am so done with that whole family. Especially him. All my life he's treated me like shit on the bottom of his shoes, and I'm so fucking done with it. I am NOTHING to them, and I wont EVER go back there, you hear me?! NEVER!"

Harry had worked himself into quite a state; by the end of his speech he was screaming at Sirius. He was suddenly so angry that he couldn't take it anymore. He whipped around, breathing heavily, and punched the bedroom wall as hard as he could. He continued to yell, punching the wall repeatedly between words.

"I. WILL. NEVER. GO. BACK."

Harry let out a strangled, frustrated yell and sank to knees, tears streaming down his face as he cradled his injured hand. He looked up at his Godfather, who was still sitting on the bed watching him with a funny look on his face, one that Harry had never seen before. He made eye contact with Sirius, and immediately stopped moving, shocked. Sirius' eyes held not only pain, sorrow and concern but also such a deep level of understanding that Harry felt all the anger physically drain from him, leaving him feeling empty and exhausted. He stared up into Sirius' eyes and whispered one simple request.

"Please don't make me go back."

Sirius didn't move for a moment, he just continued to stare at Harry with that look. Then he slowly rose to his feet and walked over to stand in front of his Godson, still maintaining eye contact. He held out his hand, which Harry took. He hoisted Harry up. Once he was on his feet, Sirius wrapped his strong arms around his skinny Godson, bringing his head close to his chest. He lowered his own head until his cheek was resting against Harry's jet-black hair and muttered one quiet word, just loud enough for his distressed Godson to hear.

"Never."

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**A/N: Hope you liked it, and don't forget to review! Also, I'm open for any ideas in regards to the story... if you'd like to see something happen, let me know and I'll try to fit it in. Thanks!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm really sorry this took so long, but I've been really sick lately and unable to write. Anyways, Merry Christmas and enjoy!**

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**Chapter 6**

For the second time in as many days, 15 year old Harry Potter had fallen asleep in his Godfather's arms. He supposed he should be quite embarrassed, but honestly couldn't seem to bring himself to care. After such a depressing summer, he was glad for any sort of human contact at all.

Harry had been completely drained after his emotional outburst, but felt more free than he ever had in his life. He had been bottling up his feelings about the Dursleys for much too long; he had never even told Ron and Hermione about what his life was like over there. Now that someone he trusted knew the basis of what went on over there, Harry felt as though a large weight had been taken off his shoulders; he didn't have to keep his secret any longer.

Harry knew that Sirius would probably want to talk more about the Dursleys; he couldn't be so angry that he punched a hole in the wall and then expect to not be questioned later. He wasn't quite ready to tell his whole story, but felt that he was well on his way.

Harry had woken up back in the bed, under the covers- Sirius had probably put him there after he fell asleep. He still felt a little sore from his healing injuries, but was overall feeling much better. He reached over to the nightstand, feeling around for his glasses. He felt his hand hit the cold wire frame and brought them to his face, sliding them on. Now that he could see properly, Harry looked over at the clock on the wall; it was nearly noon. Time to get out of bed, he decided. He didn't know Sirius' sleeping patterns, but figured he'd be awake by now. Harry slipped out of bed and walked over to the bathroom attached to the room. He had a quick shower, dried himself off and went back into the bedroom. Harry noticed his trunk lying by the door- he supposed that Sirius had brought it upstairs for him. Harry opened his trunk to reveal an absolute disaster- it looked like a bomb had gone off inside it. He dug his hand in and somehow managed to extract a pair of boxers, some rumpled jeans and an old t shirt. He threw them on, grabbed his wand from the bedside table and exited the room.

Harry had no idea where he should go first- he had never been in this house before, and didn't want to wander too much without permission. He decided his best bet would be to find Sirius. He found a staircase and padded down it, listening as the stairs creaked with every step he took. He noticed how old and dirty the house was, but didn't mind; anything was better than the sparkling white, sterile counter tops at Privet Drive. When he got to the bottom of the staircase, Harry found himself looking down a long, gloomy hallway. He noticed that all the doors were closed except for one near the end- perhaps Sirius was in there. Harry walked up to the room and poked his head around the door frame. It was a small room, containing only a couch, a table and a large tapestry on the wall. Sure enough, Sirius was standing there, wearing the same clothes he had the night before and staring at the tapestry on the wall. He had his back to Harry and didn't appear to notice his presence.

Harry approached Sirius silently, trying not to startle him. It wasn't until Harry was standing right next to his Godfather that Sirius noticed him; he looked over at Harry. He had a sad, reminiscent look on his face, which he quickly replaced with a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Harry returned it half-heartily, noting how tired Sirius looked; he wondered how much sleep he had got last night.

"What'cha up to, kid?" Sirius asked.

"Nothing much. I was just looking for you. Don't know my way around this place." Harry replied.

Sirius nodded in understanding. He then turned his head back towards the tapestry, looking at it as if he was deep in thought. Harry leaned up against the wall, putting his hands in his pockets and staring into space. They stayed like that for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts, neither of them finding the need to speak.

"What is this thing?" Harry eventually asked, breaking the companionable silence. He gestured his chin towards the tapestry hanging on the wall he was currently leaning against.

Sirius' expression darkened considerably as he looked at Harry then back towards the tapestry. He brought a hand up and lightly traced his fingers over the dusty surface.

"Nothing important, really. Just my family tree." he mumbled.

"Where're you, then?" Harry asked, standing up properly beside his Godfather to get a good look at the thing. He realized then that he knew absolutely nothing of his Godfather's family or childhood, and wanted to learn more. Sirius slid his hand across the tapestry to rest on a dark black, charred spot.

"I was right here." he said in a quiet voice. He sounded very sad and a little bit bitter. Harry frowned; why would his Godfather's name burnt off the tapestry?

"Who did that?" Harry asked, running a hand lightly over the spot.

"My dear old mum, of course. Disowned me and blasted me right off the damn thing the night I ran away."

Harry was shocked; he looked at Sirius sharply, his hand still on the wall.

"You ran away too?" he said in disbelief. Sirius nodded.

"You bet I did. I hated my family, the whole lot of them. Twisted, conceited little bastards they were." Harry looked confused, so Sirius offered an explanation. "The Blacks are an ancient pure-blood family; very rich, very dark and very narrow minded. They think themselves to be better than every one else because of their blood status- I'm sure you've met some people like that." Harry nodded and wrinkled his nose; he was reminded immediately of Draco Malfoy. "The Blacks had this sort of twisted obsession with dark magic. They encouraged, or rather pressured, their children to join Voldemort. This family produced some of the foulest death-eaters out there. A few Blacks turned out to be half-decent, but were immediately disowned, of course. Anyways, the night I ran away was the night my little brother, Regulus, joined the death-eaters. He announced the 'good news' to my parents at dinner; they were so _proud_ of him, acting like there was no better choice their son could have made than working for one of the most evil wizards of all time. It made me absolutely sick, the way they were praising him." Sirius sounded truly disgusted as he recounted this tale. "Then my parents started ragging on me, asking me why_ I_ wasn't a death-eater yet, why _I_ wasn't a good son like Regulus... and I just sort of blew up. Started yelling, had a huge fight with my parents, got tired of their bullshit and left. Got up, grabbed my trunk and walked right out the front door, just like you did. Sixteen years old. Regulus told me about mum burning me off this tapestry later that year at school- him and the other Slytherins seemed to find it quite amusing."

Sirius finished and looked away from Harry, who was shocked and a little bit proud. He was shocked that his Godfather's family was so dark; he had never expected that from a person like Sirius. He was proud, though, that his Godfather had turned out so well despite the environment he grew up in, _and_ had the guts to run out on his family. That took courage, and Harry knew it.

"Where did you go? After you ran away." Harry asked curiously. Sirius glanced at Harry briefly with a strange look on his face before answering slowly.

"Your dad's. Showed up half dead on his doorstep, much like you did. Your grandparents loved me- they were happy to take me in. I was like a second son to them."

"Wait- half dead? What do you mean? What happened to you?"

Sirius looked at Harry for a long moment; he appeared to be considering something. Then he began to speak again.

"As I've just implied, my parents weren't the nicest people. To put it bluntly, my dad was abusive. Like your Uncle, I guess. If I put a toe out of line, I got beat up. He never hit Reg, though, no matter what he did. And he barely ever hit me before Hogwarts. But then I got sorted into Gryffindor, and it just kind of went downhill from there. The night I ran away was the worst- he beat me up so bad I swear he almost killed me."

Harry was shocked; Sirius' dad sounded a lot like his Uncle. Now he realized why he had held such understanding in his eyes when Harry had confessed his abuse the night before.

"Why didn't you tell anyone about the abuse?" he asked Sirius.

"Why didn't you?" was his Godfather's swift reply.

Harry nodded in understanding; it was a fair point.

"I hid the abuse well over the years, but James finally got it out of me that night." Sirius said. "I wouldn't tell him anything at first, but this is James we're talking about; he wasn't about to let it go. Stubborn little bugger, he was. Can't thank him enough for it, though. That night I broke down and told him everything; I finally let it all out. All the anger, the guilt, the resentment, the fear. Only after doing that did I begin to heal; to get better. And I only went uphill from there." Sirius turned towards Harry, placing his hands on his shoulders and staring him straight in the eyes. "What your uncle did to you was completely horrible and absolutely unacceptable, and I'm so very sorry that you had to go through that. I want you to know that when you're ready to tell me everything, or want to tell me anything at all, I'm here. Whether it be twelve at night or five in the morning, just come and get me. No matter where I am or what I'm doing, I'll listen. I never want you to be afraid to talk to me, about anything. Understood?"

Harry nodded, trying to swallow around the ache in his throat; it wouldn't do to cry in front of Sirius again. Never before in his life had Harry had someone to talk to, and here Sirius was offering his full support. It felt brilliant. Harry was sure that he would eventually be ready to talk about everything that happened at Privet Drive, and now he knew that he had someone there to listen when he was.

He felt Sirius pulling him into a strong hug, pressing his cheek against the top of Harry's head. He sighed deeply before beginning to speak quietly.

"You remind me so much of myself, Harry. You have no idea." Sirius said. "But you're so much better, in so many ways, and I am so, so proud of you. I want you to always remember how brilliant you truly are, okay? No matter what those monsters told you, you are amazing, and deserve all the love in the world. Don't you ever forget that, yeah?"

Harry nodded into his Godfather's chest, swallowing back his tears.

"Thanks, Sirius." he whispered.

"Anytime. I love you, kid." Sirius said. He stood still for a moment, before giving Harry a final pat on the back and releasing him. He put an arm around his Godson's shoulder, pulling him close to his side and ruffling his hair.

"So, how about some breakfast, then? I might have some old bread in the pantry..."

Sirius rambled on as they exited the room together, shutting off the light and closing the door behind him with a decisive thud. They walked down the hallway, chatting happily, not looking back towards the room that held so many bad memories for Sirius. It was time to let go of the past; Harry only hoped that he was ready to move forward.


End file.
